The Black Sheep of Weasley
by The Middle Captain
Summary: When Sirius Black reveals himself to Harry Potter, everything goes wrong, or so they thought. What if a bite from a beast set Ron Weasley on a journey to understand the wizarding world in a way he can not understand?
1. Chapter 1

"Harry! Hermione!" The giant beast is jumping towards me and the prone Snape. A blast of light shoots past us. The beast mauls Snape, and then he throws him aside. Once he's done with Snape, he jumps at me. Dear lord. There are a few more bolts of light that fling around me, and the beast bites me. A black dog jumps into the beasts side and slams it off into the wilderness. Pettigrew had long since fled the scene of the carnage, and Harry and Hermione had disappeared. I looked at my arm, and I saw the blood turning darker as it ran out of my arm. The last thing I saw was the moon, and I felt my chest ache.

When I wake up, I'm lying in a bed, and Harry and Hermione are disappearing. Then, a second later, they walked into the room. They look incredibly happy, and the second I see them, I shout out: "What happened? What is going on?"

The two look over to me, and then they tell me. They used a time turner, and saved Sirius Black and Buckbeak.

"What?" They look at me. "Why didn't you save me? Or stop Pettigrew? Or Snape?"

"From what Ron? You got bitten by Sirius when he attacked Lupin! It's not that bad. And Snape wasn't even injured. He's back in his quarters. I saw him on the map." I look at my arm. It's healed. My leg hurts, and I'm sore, but all over. Harry continues speaking: "Ron are you feeling okay? We can get you a sleeping draught from Madame Pomfrey."

My world is wrong. I feel weird, my memories are messed up, and… "Yeah guys. I'll take that potion. I'm feeling pretty strange right now." They call the mediwitch over, and she gives me a look that worries me more. I drink the draught and fall into sleep.

When I awake, there is an ominous shadow standing over me. It's Professor Dumbledore. He looks distraught. It really creeps me out. I have no idea why he is here, and I'm more used to him looking like Grandpa Septimus. You know, all tender and caring. It bothers me that he's acting grim and dark. The old man quickly puts up his wand, and pulls out something from his robes that looks like a muggle trinket that dad had in his shed once. It pulls all the light from lamps around the room, and there's a faint buzzing around us. He walks to the chair next to my bed, and then sits down in it. We're all alone in the room, and he sits down next to me. "Mr. Weasley. Ronald. Ron. There has been a terrible accident."

"What is it sir?"

"On the night of your adventure at the Shrieking Shack, you and Mr. Snape were both bitten by Remus Lupin, in his werewolf form."

"What?" The news drops on me. It wasn't my imagination, it wasn't a dream. I'm a werewolf. Merlin, no. "Am I-" I don't even get the words out.

"So far, it seems yes." He puts his hand on my hand, and suddenly, a bloody bandage appears on my arm. The seepage is arranged in a crescent moon shape. How bloody appropriate. "Mr. Weasley, I am afraid-"

"The time turner! Hermione's time turner! We can go back! I don't have to be this way. Please Dumbledore! Harry and Hermione, they must've-"

"No Ronald. I was there, and I used the time turner to return to the event. I was unable to stop it."

"THEN TRY AGAIN!" I'm more angry then I have ever been. "I CAN'T BE A WEREWOLF. THERE IS NOTHING FOR WEREWOLVES! I-"

"There is here."

"What?"

"I will not let you become ruled by this Mr. Weasley. You and Professor Snape suffered great injuries at the hand of a wild beast that our esteemed Professor Lupin has no control over. In his zeal to capture the man who was responsible for Harry's parents deaths, Professor Lupin did not take the Wolfsbane Potion early enough before the transformation occurred."

"Why didn't he Professor?" I am on the verge of tears at this point. I think of hiding them, but I won't. This is the worst day of my entire life.

"He was so consumed by his desire for revenge, that it blinded him to the obvious issues. Ron. Professor Lupin feels entirely-"

"No. I will never forgive him. I will never EVER FORGIVE HIM." How dare Dumbledore? What could Lupin ever do that would ever be good enough? Save killing himself three days ago.

"You two have that in common, Mr. Weasley. Remus Lupin's greatest fear, you saw his boggart?"

"The moon?"

"Not only the moon itself, but what it represents. He has never created another werewolf before. Let alone two."

"Snape?"

"Yes. It seems though, that the beast lingered longer on him than you. He is severely injured, and I don't know if he will survive this night."

"Good. He's a right slimy git who deserves everything he gets. If it weren't for him, Pettigrew would still be here, and Black's name would be clear of all guilt."

"You must listen to me Mr. Weasley." He looks right into my eyes, and I can tell he's being serious. "I have arranged for three things. They are gifts, as well as responsibilities. Firstly, I have convinced Professor Lupin to stay on as a teacher here. It will allow you to be trained in controlling the creature that has been manifested within you. Secondly, I have this." He pulls out a locket and opens it, with three rotating discs surrounding a cracked pearl inside. It's like a puzzle, but only sort of. "Twist the medallion, so all three have the same symbol in a row." I do, and a time turner appears where the locket once was. "This will help you with your transformations. Once you transform, you must hide this locket and clothing, and then, once the cycle is complete, you will shift back to before you left the castle. It will be difficult to hide, but-"

Hide?

"Yes Mr. Weasley, hide." I must've spoken my thought without realizing it. "I am selfishly insisting that you remain indiscreet about your newfound problem. Though it seems insensitive, we need Severus and Remus for the upcoming battle."

"What upcoming battle? What are you talking about?"

"You shall be informed soon enough Mr. Weasley. My third gift will come with time, and in the meantime, you need rest. I shall take my leave of you, so you can rest." With that, he leaves the room. How could he leave me with THIS? This is worse than hell. I cannot believe Dumbledore would abandon me like this. He wants me to keep it a secret? Well I'll make it so no secret ever needs to exist.

The time turner takes me back, and I look around the room. I quickly hide behind a curtain, and watch as Harry and Hermione return for the first time. I could just tell them about what's going to happen, and I'm about to, when my body fails, and I fall onto a bed. I feel incredibly weak.. What is happening to me right now? I don't understand. They leave, and I gain movement. I quickly hobble out of the room and walk down to the great hall and through to the door. When I get outside, I look around and notice shapes that look like Harry and Hermione going out to the forest near Hagrid's Hut. I try again to yell to them, and I find out I can't speak. It's like I'm losing the functions of my body. It passes, and I make my way towards the whomping willow, and I look around to see a group of Ministry officials next to Hagrid. Buckbeak isn't anywhere to be seen, and I realize that I have to leave, or I'm going to be blamed for freeing the hippogriff. I run into the Forbidden Forest, and I see through the thicket a large winged creature and the shapes of my friends. I feel even weaker than before, and a flash of pain knocks me to the ground.

I wake up…

Need to stop Lupin…

Whomping Willow…

Lupin…

Scabbers...

Snape…

Kill…

KILL…

DARK MAN MUST BE KILLED…

RED BOY IS MINE…

OLD WIZARD SHOOTS LIGHT…

BLACK DOG…

PAIN…

SMALL MOUSE…

DIE…

I wake and I am in horror. My body is deathly still, and I am so fatigued that I can't move. There is a seemingly dead man four feet away from me, and I know in my heart it's Pettigrew. I'm still wearing my locket, but my clothes are in tatters. It hurts so bad, but I know I'm lucky. My wand is nowhere to be found, and I start trying to move. It is the most astoundingly difficult thing I've ever done. My last thought before losing consciousness is a curse at my stupidity.

When I awake, I notice my hunger first. Pettigrew's corpse is gone. I can't tell if he's alive, but I know I have to return to the castle. I make my way to the great hall, and I notice it's night time. I'm found by Professor Sinistra of all people, and she tries to rush me to the Hospital Wing, but I insist on Dumbledore. She looks at my bloody clothes, and my desperate look, and she agrees reluctantly. I walk to Dumbledore's office, and I explain to Sinistra that my clothes are a result of some older Slytherins. She gets a dark look, and then glares a bit at me. I don't know what house the Astronomy Professor was in, but I think I can guess from her foul look that she was either in Slytherin or Gryffindor. We get to a Gargoyle, and she says "Drooble's Best Blowing Gum," and a staircase reveals itself. She brings me up, and I sit in a chintz armchair in the office in front of the desk. I say to Dumbledore that I need to speak to him, and he seems a bit confused about my appearance. I must be in the Hospital Wing asleep right now.

"Professor, could we speak privately?"

"Or course Mr. Weasley. Aurora, if you could?"

"Yes Professor, I'll take my leave."

"If you could return tomorrow morning and speak with me around 10, I'd very much appreciate it."

"Yes, sir." Sinistra turns to leave.

"And Aurora."

"Yes, sir?"

"Call me Albus."

"Certainly, sir." She takes her leave and I prepare to explain my story. When I explain the events of the evening, and then my time jump, Dumbledore looks sternly at his desk.

"I was aware of your… affliction, and I used a time turner I have requisitioned to try and stop Remus from attacking you. I had no idea it was actually you. It seems that I will need to give you this." He pulls out another locket.

"You gave that to me when we met. It turns into a time turner."

"This is a Numquam Locket. It is rumored it will turn into the item needed most by a wizard or witch in a given moment. It will always be what the first item is, however, when opened by the same wizard more than once."

"Then it'll always be a Time Turner for me? Not one that's regulated by the ministry?"

"Yes. It seems you have a powerful weapon at your disposal, Mr. Weasley." He stands from his desk and looks at me with a pitying expression. "For now, keep this to yourself. It must be your greatest secret Mr. Weasley, only greater than your current status as a werewolf." He walks to the door, and stops at the entrance."We will speak at greater length later. It seems I must set events in motion." He leaves the room, and I begin to lose my mind. I infected myself, Snape too. I was stupid enough to go back in time without realizing the consequences of returning to the night of a full moon. My body was weak, I hurt all over, and I have a headache right now that I know a potion can't cure, but most of all…

I'm a dark creature.

This is the end of my life.

(Author's Note) So this is my newest story, an examination on the changing nature of sex, drugs, and homosexuality in our world through the kid gloves of J.K. Rowling's amazing children's books. This will also be an examination of the character of Ron, and his fears and doubts as a character. Usually in the books you just see him through Harry's eyes, but he is undoubtedly as important as Harry or Hermione, and criminally under-represented in fanfiction, usually put on a bus, or given the death eater treatment. He is the passion of the main trio, and I want to see what he'd be like as a character forced to examine his own prejudices and inadequacies. I also want to pair him with Pansy Parkinson because I read a really good fanfic about the two of them, and I think I could write it well.


	2. Chapter 2

I hadn't realized I'd fallen asleep, and when I woke up, I had become starving. Fortunately, Professor Dumbledore was there, and as soon as I forced myself to say "mhungry." He asked a house-elf to bring me food, and soon, there was a sandwich and some other foods. I ate. It was a cold sandwich and some soup. It was as good as any food from Hogwarts. I didn't throw up. It felt like the time Fred and George had given me firewhiskey at an after-quidditch party, and I had passed out. I hurt all over, and

whatever. This is really annoying. I wish that Lupin wasn't making me write in this damned journal.

August 20th, 1994

Ron Weasley

* * *

Ron shut the diary his mentor had given him, and tapped it with his wand. It wouldn't open for anyone else. He looked outside at the moon, and it was damned near full. He'd have to sneak out tomorrow night to get his potion and to transform safely away from the house. Nobody in his family knew his secret and he was feeling peculiar. He no longer was insisting on being involved in things, and he didn't feel so insignificant. His family didn't care he was second-youngest, and honestly he didn't care that much then either. The full moon took up most of his time, and the bright side to a big house full of people with similar hair meant he could slip out and avoid his family easily. Just follow the pattern, be there to help at mealtimes, do your chores, and get out of there. He had finished his homework ages ago, and flying on a broom was fun, but Wood was going to stay keeper, and Ron wasn't good to good at any other position. He looked over at Harry, who was sleeping on the other bed in his room. His friend was the same, if not a little angstier than usual. Apparently, he had a bit of trouble on the way from the muggles he stayed with. One of Fred and George's tricks, no doubt. Harry had been talking with them a lot since he arrived at the Burrow, Ron knew he was more distant than usual, but he wasn't sure how to act around Harry and Hermione. He was a werewolf. How do you break that to a friend? It would be worse if an enemy discovered it.

There wasn't much to be gleaned from his musings, and he looked over to the clock on his desk. Half 11. He looked once more out to the moon, and his body ached with a longing that he had become accustomed to told him to go out and accept the presence of the orb. It's always a strong feeling, a desperate sort of longing, on the eve of the transformations. He opened his journal and write down a last note.

_Must ask Remus about the fatality of silver on the transformation's eve._

The next morning was awful. Ron felt restless, and Harry kept talking to him about how great talking to Sirius had been, even if it was about a funny ache near his scar. His friend was happy, why couldn't he be happy? Oh, that's right, he was transforming into a wolf tonight. He thought back to the bottles he had hidden in the woods. The six empties were of the wolfsbane potion. He remembered the drill, take it each day the week before a transformation and he'd keep his mind through the transformation. He hadn't had access the first or second of his transformations, the first being his paradoxical infecting, and the second being locked in a cage in Dumbledore's office. Each time he remembered bits and pieces and woke up sore and tired, the second time he had several cuts on his torso that he didn't remember making.. The third time had been with the potion, and he remembered it clearly. The pain of transformation, and then he did nothing. He found a place and slept. He was awoken by the turning, and he hadn't any wounds, only a headache. He was corresponding to Lupin and Dumbledore regularly, and when his letter arrived, there was a note that told him Dumbledore's password and a time for him to appear at the headmaster's office. There was wisely no mention of the reason for the meeting, only a message for Ron to be at the headmaster's office late at night on the eve of the return to Hogwarts. Ron had sighed and went up to his room.

The boys talked, Harry going to go play quidditch with the others, and Ron slipped away, making his way to the hidden alcove where his potions were. Once he got there, he brushed away the leaves covering them, and-

The last bottle was gone.

He frantically looked around the clearing for the potion, getting more and more panicked until he heard a voice-

"Looking for-"

"-This?"

Oh merlin no. The twins. My wand is back in the burrow. Oh no.

"What's in the bottle, ickle Ronnikins?" Fred.

"You know, alcohol isn't good for the icklest of our brothers." George.

"It isn't alcohol."

"Don't lie Ron."

"We don't like liars." The two of them walked around Ron, and he lost track of the two of them.

"It ISN'T alcohol." He couldn't do it. He couldn't bear having the two of them know that he was a werewolf, it would ruin any chance he had at living normally while at Hogwarts. He could barely stand the two of them as is. Harry and Hermione were never around when the two of them would find time to test pranks on him. The one on his left had the bottle. What the hell. "Hey George?"

"Yeah?" Lucky guess. Ron punched him in the face and grabbed the bottled. Fred looked astonished, and Ron ran off. He quickly put some distance between the two groups, and he chugged the potion. Yep, still awful. He discarded the bottle, and then a fist hit him in the face. It was Fred.

"That wasn't very nice Ron." George appeared from the bushes with a bloody nose, and he looked livid.

"I'm gonna make you regret that Ron!" Well. As far as plans go, attacking somebody who had backup and more skill in fighting wasn't the best, but it had accomplished what it needed to. Ron had taken the potion. The twins didn't know, and he was ready to transform.

Now all he had to do was meet Lupin. Perhaps with a few more bruises than per usual.

* * *

Ron limped to the clearing later that night, and he reached up into the branches to grab the portkey to the Hogwarts grounds. It was a small ring that he knew he'd need to wear when he was at the school. It was silver and too conspicuous to appear in the Burrow. No doubt the twins would've felt the need to "Appropriate" it for their joke business. He slipped it on and waited, counting down the seconds until he felt a pulling feeling at his navel. He braced himself for the pull and he arrived at the seventh floor corridor, where Dumbledore was standing holding an opening to the come-and-go room, a secret place the elves of Hogwarts knew about. He walked in, and it turned into a large room with a plush carpet and several large cushions to sleep on. Here we go.

* * *

AN: I really like this idea, and I don't know what to do with it, so I'm gonna wing it. Sorry for the long delay, but I came up with that time turner thing and then wrote a story around it and then realized it wouldn't work. So, next chapter will be the world cup.


	3. Chapter 3

In the dark nights at Hogwarts, Ron would stay in his bed, wait for Harry to sleep along with the others, and then depart the Gryffindor tower. It never ended with him finding serenity, and all he could do was sleep fitfully until morning once he returned to his bed. He used the time to think about the Quidditch World Cup and the new Divination professor, Yeltsin Harps. The man was curious, as he gave Ron a feeling of dread. Ron wasn't quite sure why, but since the change, almost everything made him wary, and he didn't have a way to gauge it. His troubles in Divination were really the least of his concerns, and he had considered dropping the class, just to do something besides fall asleep in the classroom that had somehow become more intoxicating since the disappearance of Sybill Trelawney.

The transformations became easier to hide, as the time turner was usable in a similar way to the one that had changed him. Ron waited until the absolute last second to disappear, met with Lupin, and then did the deed. Then he'd go back to the early morning, bathe away the evidence, and then go down to the Great Hall. He grew the rep of an early riser because of it, and he had become one. Late to bed, early to rise.

* * *

"You shan't need much sleep, it doesn't do much for you anymore, Weasley."

"What?"

"The transformation acts as our rest. We get tired around it, but we're pretty much always at a baseline."

"I don't need to sleep?"

"MUCH sleep I said. Everyone needs it. You need less. A less widely known side effect."

* * *

Ron turned a corner and spied a girl near the entrance to the castle. It was Pansy Parkinson, and she was smoking a cigarette.

* * *

"What about injuries?"

"Magic does more, everything else does less. It'll take more of everything muggle to kill you, and less magical effort. I will be tutoring you in defense as well as continuing these lessons.

"Defense?"

"Everything I can to help you deal with this. We will have to make you into a duelist worthy of my tutelage."

"Alright."

Ron wasn't sure what the requirements were for a duelist worthy of Professor Snape.

* * *

The girl turned and saw him, and quickly disposed of her smoke. She leered at him and quietly jeered: "You gonna blab Weasel?"

It was then Ron realized something. He didn't care. The girl who he had raged at for three years now was sitting across from him doing something truly against the rules, and he had her. But he didn't care.

"I'm not going to rat on you Parkinson."

"Yeah right. What do you want?"

"Want?"

"Obviously a saintly Gryff wouldn't let me get away with smoking, so what do you want?"

"Parkinson, I don't give a shit if you smoke or not. I honestly don't care whether you get in trouble or not for smoking a fag on school grounds."

"Well then, I'll be going before you and your apathy find your way to McGonagall."

"Okay." He walked past her and sat on the steps to the castle, overlooking the lake and the small town in the distance, lights aglow. Past that were the moon and stars shining over a scottish landscape he hadn't ever really had time to appreciate.

Upon returning, he went up to the four poster and spelled the curtains shut to get his five hours. Tomorrow he'd speak to McGonagall.

* * *

The three of them ran through the wreckage, Ron had his wand leveled, but the grogginess from yesterday had made his moves sluggish. He hear a 'STUPEFY" and everything went dark.

* * *

Ron woke before everyone and went to get showered and dressed. He brought his school things, but apparently, there wasn't much a werewolf curse did in the way of motivation, and his schoolwork was just as average as ever. He sat at the Gryffindor table and pulled out a novel he had been reading by Ernst Livery, a Ravenclaw Grad who had gone on to work in Fiction. He had been friends with Charlie and after the elder Weasley finished, they were sent Ron's way. This was the third, a story about a wizard living through World War II disguised as a jewish muggle in the German concentration camps. It was beautiful and horrible, the wizard wanting to leave, but refusing to abandon his friends, but he hadn't finished it yet, and the story was without a known conclusion. He wondered about it in his free time.

He saw students and teachers file in, and he waited, skewering some sausages, and waited for Harry and Hermione to join him.

He approached McGonagall after breakfast and requested a brief meeting, which she acquiesced to. Ron followed her to her office, and once there, requested a transfer to another class besides Divination. She looked surprised at him, and in her rich Scottish brogue inquired why.

"Everyone I've spoken to about Professor Harps loves his classes, Mr. Weasley."

"I dislike it Professor. Could I just switch?"

"If you do, I could only allow it into a third year class."

"Fine. Which ones are in my Divination timeslot?"

"Let me see. Arithmancy and Muggle Studies."

"Muggle Studies."

"Not long to make a decision."

"I live in the moment."

"I'll tell you the same thing I told the other fourth year in that class Mr. Weasley. Get an O on the final exam, and I'll put you in the fifth year class next year."

"There's another fourth year in the third year class?"

"Yes. Ms. Parkinson, in Slytherin."

* * *

(AN) I don't particularly care for writing things that are adequately written in canon. You'll see more of that sentiment later. You know what happens at the Quidditch Cup, just imagine Ron groggy, and him getting hit by one or two stunners.


	4. Chapter 4

Pansy was having a shit day. It was Potions, and Weasley had snitched. She saw him go of with McG, and the kid was acting nonchalant. Which was a problem.

She wasn't a member of a noble house, her Great Uncle Perseus had ruined any political bids her family could want to make, and it had ended up with the Parkinsons bankrupt. Her family was known as the muggle hating facists with no money. They were the Gaunts. But in the last 20 years, that had changed. Her father was a merchant, specializing in the large movement of necessary goods, and had more often than not supplied the Anti-Voldemort movement during the war, inadvertently. Her Father's businesses in the wizarding world actually made her family rich again, but the Parkinsons had fallen from any clout nonetheless, and it had made her Da and Mum very practical and frugal, maintaining that simplistic life and large income worked incredibly well together.

Which INFURIATED Pansy.

It infuriated her because she understood her parents. Her father was the heir to the name Parkinson, and not much else, while her mother was a half-blood who had no inheritance either. The two had met at school, him in Ravenclaw, her in Slytherin, and married at a sensible age once their business had taken off. They had Pansy when they were ready, and frequently adopted Muggle lifestyle trends and fads, while still running a successful business. Whenever people talked about her parents, it was always: "Those Parkinsons are odd ducks aren't they?" Just because they didn't subscribe to the every minutia of wizarding thought. The two had no living relatives, and were always looking for money gaining ventures, and they always thought before acting, investing wisely, and if a muggle way worked better, they'd use it. Which wasn't done.

Basically, they were a modern family in the dark ages.

Which wasn't bad for Pansy herself. She liked Muggles, she had grown up around Muggles, not Wizards, she liked Muggle things, she like Muggle food, and telly and smoking and real beer (her parents were flowing with the butter kind after last year's acquisition) almost all of which weren't allowed in her household. They were bad for you, and even though she was a wizard and could cure anything she'd like, her parents insisted on making her follow the healthy ways of both cultures. But she loved sitting outside and smoking, watching the smoke float in patterns around her head, like a crown, to sneak a pint with her friends away from the adults at dinners(she was very mature for her age) and falling asleep watching some show on BBC.

She had to give it all up at Hogwarts though. She couldn't like any of her favorite Muggle things, Draco would judge, and then the girls would titter and tease her behind her back. She had learned early: In Slytherin, worms squirm, but we're the snakes. No talk of garbage telly, not a single mention of any non-wizard band, nothing to show any interest in anything muggle.

She had her cheats though. Cigarettes were easy to get, she hid whatever magazine she fancied in her back issues of _Witch Weekly_, and she bought loads of romance books from London stowed in her trunk's secret compartment. Now Weasley would take away one of her good things, and he didn't even realize what it meant to her.

So she was mad, and she was very eager to give him a shit day as well.

But Ron, unbeknownst to his enemy, had been having a shit year. He was quite dreading the Muggle Studies class and the new texts he had to buy. He had sent his mother his divination things, and was prepared to get a tongue-lashing later. He had sit away from his usual friends, feeling particularly angsty towards his plight, and was trying to focus that inner turmoil into not making a fool of himself.

It strangely worked. and he turned in an E to Snape, who had deigned not to comment to the boy.

A small kindness from one of his tutors.

When he walked outside, he left, now in a free period, as Muggle Studies met twice a week as opposed to three. He sat down and pulled out his book in a nook on a staircase in the East Tower. He thought about his meeting with McGonagall, and wondered why he hadn't told on Pansy. He was about to close his book when a spell hit him.

He started coughing blood violently, and struggled for his wand. It was a Hacking Jinx, but with his werewolf deficiencies, even this could be fatal if hit with the right tenacity from the caster. He managed to get out the counter-jinx, and collapsed in a small pool of his own blood.

His last thought before his vision blacked out was something about the end of the story.

* * *

Ron awoke in the hospital wing six hours later, and next to his bed was Pansy Parkinson. She was reading a book he didn't recognize, and when she saw him stir, she looked over at him and closed it. She then got up and left.

Now Ron wasn't stupid, and he understood what happened. She must have seen him with McGonagall and assumed he was telling on her. So she jinxed him when he wasn't looking. Not exactly sporting, but he understood. But he reacted violently to the jinx, and so she brought him here.

"Parkinson." He weakly moaned, and the girl, who had been packing her things into a knapsack, looked over. "Thanks for bringing me to the hospital wing."

"Don't thank me you idiot. I put you here."

"Not your fault. I'm a bit weak to spells right now."

"Whatever. Thank you for not telling."

"No need to thank me, just keep this quiet. I'll tell everyone I just collapsed."

"That won't be hard, seeing as that's what I told Pomfrey."

At this Ron laughed, which hurt his weak throat. The girl left without a word a minute later, and then two minutes after that, Harry and Hermione burst in.

* * *

"So Krum is here?"

"Yeah, he and some others. There was this girl from Beauxbatons, who was really amazing looking, and-"

"Not that great. I sure don't see it."

The two bickered for a moment, and Ron thought about the Triwizard Tournament. It was announced, but there hadn't been much news about it, and now the foreign student delegates had arrived. With Viktor Krum!

"Damn you, Parkinson."

"What Ron?"

"Nothing."

The next day, Ron got his chance to meet Viktor Krum. The man walked over to him and spoke very quietly very early in the morning in the empty Great Hall.

"It is good to see von of my own kind here." He shook hands with Ron and spoke again: "Ve will haf to speak again. It vould be nice to transform with another again."

Ron was left speechless, and unfortunately, in the shadows in the corner of the room, so was Neville.

* * *

(AN) I'd like to thank notsing, who gave me a good idea by pointing out some questions. Those reviews help, and in a way allow me to think about these prompts I've thought up. So thanks. I would like to say that Ron turned Snape and himself, not Lupin, but Lupin believes it was himself. So for now, he isn't telling anyone. There is a lot to come, but for now, this will be Ron's story with brief interludes of other characters, and Lupin isn't really showing up in the narrative for a while.

Thanks for reviewing, friend, and I hope others follow your example.


	5. Chapter 5

There were three very confused students in the Great Hall the next morning. Ron Weasley was confused because he had no idea how to react to Viktor Krum revealing himself as a werewolf. He had no idea why the Seeker would. Surely there was a stigma? He wasn't publicly known as a werewolf, but there must have been… Ron couldn't puzzle it out.

Pansy Parkinson was confused by the Weasley. He was being… nice. Or rather, not unkind. Which was odd. The Weasleys were VERY anti-dark magic. Ron seemed, at least initially, to be the same, which meant scorning all the Slytherins he could find, including Draco and her friends. But he hadn't told on her. Twice now. Maybe he really just didn't care. But she doubted it.

Neville Longbottom was confused at what he heard. Viktor Krum was conspiring with Ron Weasley about something. But the Seeker had muffled his words too well for Neville to be able to hear anything in particular. But it was suspicious to be sure. The last time he investigated something, he had almost figured out the reason Harry and his friends were leaving the dorms. Well… now that he thought about it, it might be better to leave this alone.

That night, Ron was wandering the halls, when he found Pansy smoking again. He greeted her, and she glared at him through the dim light.

"What do you want?"

"I'm bored, and you're the only one I know is up."

"I could not be here."

"You smoke though. It probably happens more often than doesn't." She took a drag and looked away.

"Why are you being nice to me?"

"Nice?"

"Not a total knobhead."

"Oh." He sat down a few steps away from her. "I dunno. All that house stuff doesn't really matter to me anymore."

"House stuff?"

"I guess it just doesn't matter in the long run." He leaned back and folded his arms behind his head. "Why bother with it?"

"That's dumb. Houses tell us what we do in life. Who we see, what we become, all that."

"Not me. I know how my story ends." Pansy stopped mid drag to look over at the Gryffindor. She held out her cigarettes and her lighter to him.

"Want one?"

"I suppose so." He tried to light it, and she guided him to inhale while lighting the end to insure a proper smoke.

"You'll-" She was interrupted by him coughing. "Cough the first time. It gets smoother after a few inhales."

"Okay." He looked at the smoke and then back to her. "Why do you do this?"

"What?"

"Ride Unicorns." He scoffed. "Obviously you know what I mean Parkinson."

"Because. It reminds me of home."

"Parents big fag-smokers?"

"No, my mate Cindy is though."

"Cindy what?"

"Kim."

"That isn't a wizarding name."

"She isn't a wizard. Or witch, rather."

"A muggle?"

"Not your business Weasley."

"Alright. Just making conversation."

"Shut your gob and enjoy the free smoke. I charge after the first."

The next day neither of them spoke to each other, not in any of the Gryffindor/Slytherin classes or third year Muggle Studies. He partnered up with Loony Lovegood, a friend of his sister. She was a smart kid, but her head was kind of in the clouds. He had understood the nickname since the two had met.

The only other noteworthy occurrence that day was that four champions were chosen for the Triwizard Cup.

* * *

That night, Ron looked over at the prone form of his best friend. Why would he enter, and why would he keep the reason from him? He had voiced his questions, and Harry had lashed out. "Why would I want fame Ron? I've already got it." Ron was sure Harry meant to be reassuring, but it came off as something McLaggen the fifth year would have said.

That night, Ron stayed in bed.

The next morning, Harry didn't speak to Ron. Which was fine, as Ron was irritated at the boy anyway. However, it looked like Hermione had taken his side of the argument, which Ron didn't understand. He had told Harry that he should have told him he was going to enter, and that he didn't understand why he had entered in the first place. He might have been a bit coarser than that, but the gist was the same. He had an excuse though. The full moon was in four days.

The next two days were agony for Ron. Without Harry and Hermione, he had started hanging with Seamus and Dean. The two were nice enough, but they were best friends, he was very clearly a third man out, and Neville had been acting strange around him. He tried to study, but he was still angry at Harry and couldn't focus too well. After some particularly mediocre assignments, he decided to explore the castle again. He found Parkinson, who offered him a smoke.

He couldn't believe that this had become a solace.

* * *

I write as much as I do as quickly as I do, so this is short, but I am working on six already.


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